


Temperance

by myworldisbiworld



Series: Sins & Virtues [5]
Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: But like still a lot of violence so watch out, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, IDK OK, Implied Sexual Content, Semi-Explicit sexual content, To put it politely, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2019-11-29 05:12:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18218669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myworldisbiworld/pseuds/myworldisbiworld
Summary: After atoning with Joseph, John heads over to visit Jacob... and the deputy.(Tags will be updated as work continues.)





	1. Chapter 1

  
_Art by me, see the full version[here](https://myworldisbiworld.tumblr.com/post/183654461889/myworldisbiworld-john-seed-because-i-can-i)._

John scratched absently at the fresh bandages on his neck, more irritated by the itchy adhesive than anything else. That, and the damn waiting.

Jacob was making a fool of him, forcing John to wait in the muck outside with the animals and captives. He clenched his fists and glared at the front doors, willing them to open. While he didn’t think his brother would let him die, John still wasn’t keen on wandering through the Veterans Center on his own. The place was disgusting.

Given the lateness of the hour, there was little action to be had, with the prisoners quietly whimpering their grief and Jacob’s Chosen looking on silently. A few Judges circled around, great, lumbering beasts stained with blood and dirt.

There were few things John liked about what Jacob had done with the place, least of all the way he was handling the souls given to him. Of course, John had no issue with the pain, nor with the idea of pushing a person to their absolute limit (and then, perhaps, a little more, just to see).

No, it was the waste of life and entertainment. Jacob was quick to throw away useful humans, yet adamant about creating and breeding more Judges. John still couldn’t understand how Jacob planned to keep those putrid beasts in a bunker for seven years. The smell _alone_ \--

John wrinkled his nose, but wondering about how Jacob planned to shovel wolf feces was better than the doubts that crept at the edges of his awareness. Anxiety haunted him, whispering in his ear all the reasons why he shouldn’t be here, why he should turn around and get out of here while he still could.

Unwillingly thinking of Joseph’s cold eyes, he remembered the crushing disappointment and, perhaps worse, the _hope_ his brother had. The Father had left a voicemail for him that very morning.

_After all the atonements, all the confessions, and all you have done for me and Eden’s Gate, it’s not enough. Is it, John?_

Oddly enough, that was what had gotten him up and plotting. John had finally grasped something that felt like _enough_ and he didn’t want to let it go just yet.

Even if it meant defying Him.

The main doors opened, this time revealing a familiar figure, who called out to him with the utmost politeness. John flicked his eyes over the ruined deputy, amused by the tattered uniform Pratt still wore.

As John followed the broken man inside, he took care to drag the mud off his boots all over Jacob’s relatively clean foyer. The interior was no better decorated than the mess outside, and John distracted himself by letting his mind wander. John was wondering what Rook had done with her deputy uniform when Pratt opened the door to Jacob’s room.

John froze in the doorway when his eyes found the pair, naked as the day they were born, lying in bed together. The sickly sweet smell of sex washed over him as he forced himself to step forward, holding his hands behind his back and keeping his shoulders high and proud.

Jacob was already awake, lurching up from lying down his side, his arm dragging across the deputy’s waist as he did so. She didn’t budge an inch, her body curled into the fetal position and facing away from Jacob, her eyes still closed.

Even in the weak light from the hallway, John could see the bites and bruises that littered her tan skin, and he found himself infuriated with the knowledge that none of them were _his._ His gaze lingered a second longer than he intended, caught by the sight of all that tattoo markings he hadn’t had the chance to notice before.

“Come for your toy, little brother?” Jacob rumbled, combing his loose hair from his face with a cold smile. Taking his time, he gave his bedmate’s hair a mockery of a kiss before getting up. “That’s too bad. I keep what I hunt.”

“Toys will break if you play with them that hard.” John drawled with forced nonchalance, though inwardly he was bristling. Possessive thoughts repeated in his mind: _Had the deputy he’d grown to treasure broken so quickly, so easily? Did he overestimate her because of his own twisted infatuation? Had he been wrong about her?_

_...was she Jacob’s now?_

Jacob lifted an eyebrow as he dropped his feet to the floor with a heavy thud. John huffed and rolled his eyes as his nude older brother sauntered across the room, picking up his faded camo pants and dragging them over thick-muscled thighs. Curiously, Jacob picked up his old dog tags from the nightstand, metal clinking as they moved, and slipped them on. John struggled to remember when Jacob had ever taken them off before.

“This one can take it,” Jacob said to John as he drew up to him, still shirtless and absolutely reeking of sex. “But it doesn’t seem like you can.”

John ground his teeth together, his temper flaring.

“Envy doesn't suit you, John.” Jacob leaned back on his heels and crossed his arms across his chest, jangling his dog tags. “You need to grow up one of these days.”

John was about to snap back when he caught the briefest flash of white behind Jacob. Had the deputy opened her eyes?

Whatever he saw distracted him long enough to let his anger cool. When he spoke next, he was almost back to his typical suave self.

“I came here for something else. So if you wouldn’t mind being professional for a moment, and stop playing with my used goods, I would like to discuss some things with you. For instance, my vehicle.”

Jacob grunted and turned away. “Not this shit again.”

“If I trusted someone else to do it, dear brother, I assure you, I would get them to take care of it. But seeing as you are here, and, as I said, a dear brother…”

“What’s wrong with it this time?” Jacob growled as he fished around for a shirt.

“How should I know?” John scoffed. He waved a hand vaguely. “It… makes a noise.”

Jacob sighed, shrugging on his coat and rolling up the sleeves. “Well, thanks for nothing.”

John smiled, all sweetness. “You’re absolutely welcome. Let us go then, shall we?”

“We’ll go in a minute.”

Jacob walked back over to the bed and grabbed Rook’s arm. John’s stomach wrenched as he watched Jacob drag her to a sitting position.

“Get dressed. You’re going, too.”

“Is that necessary?” John complained, scratching the edges of his bandage again. If only he could tear the damn thing off.

Jacob shot him a smirk. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

John rolled his eyes again, then pointedly kept his eyes away as the deputy slowly rose from the bed. He ground his teeth as he saw the blurred shape of her naked form, wishing desperately he could see.

One look. That’s all.

He glanced out of the corner of his eye and bit his lip at what he saw. That beautiful, strong back, corded with muscles and marred with bruises and bites. Between her shoulder blades was a solid black circle, an abyssal hole on her back. His eyes skimmed over a few other tattoos--peonies?--before a sweater dropped over her head and engulfed her torso.

John looked away, but Jacob caught his eye.

His brother was staring at him, a trace of a smile on his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut may take a few chapters, and this one is going to get pretty dark.


	2. Chapter 2

  
_More art by me, but the final product isn't finished yet. See progress on my Tumblr._

Rook awoke when Jacob was withdrawing his arm from under her head. As his fingertips brushed her ear and his other arm retreated from being thrown over her waist, she opened her eyes. Blinking slowly and looking around without moving her head, she noticed the red-orange light leaking through the slatted windows. She vaguely remembered passing out sometime when the light was bright, maybe late morning or midday.

Was it afternoon now? Or had they slept the night through and dawn had come?

When she finally looked up at him, he had that same cold smile. Orange light brightened his cold eyes and warmed his scarred skin, softening those menacing features. But, hearing the muffled screams coming from outside, Rook knew better.

“Well, look at you,” he murmured, trailing his fingers slowly along her jawline.

She wanted to snap back, but she was too tired and sore to piece together a coherent sentence. Instead, she just glared at him.

Fury burst inside her at the gaul Jacob had to think he was safe sleeping next to her, until shame hit her full in the face when she realized what condition her body was in. Everything ached down to her bones, her skin littered with bruises and teeth marks, dried remnants of slick and semen smeared across both their bodies and the sheets. Rook blushed deeply as she recognized the faint taste of Jacob in her mouth.

Jacob turned away and got out of bed, giving her a full view of his naked body. Unconsciously, she smirked at the sight of the scratches and bites she’d littered all over him, his back and thighs a mess of fresh cuts. As he made his way to the door, framed by a thin line of light, she noticed he wasn’t walking all that well, either.

Good. At least she could give as good as she got.

Unable to resist the weight of her eyelids, Rook closed her eyes and focused on listening instead of seeing. The door creaked open and she heard a meek whisper that sounded familiar. Her heart broke when it dawned on her -- _Staci_.

They were too far away and too quiet to tell what was being said, and the conversation lasted only a few short sentences. Before long, Jacob was thudding back to the bed, his footsteps heavy on the wood floor. The mattress coils groaned as he climbed back in, dragging her to his chest again. She felt his half-hard erection against her thigh and felt a matching tingle between her legs, but she honestly wanted sleep over sex right now.

Apparently Jacob felt the same way. He said nothing as he put his arm under her head again, and neither did she as she nuzzled against his chest. She was too tired to feel guilty about making herself comfortable in the arms of a total nutjob. Instead, she convinced herself that she would be wiser to take the opportunity to rest. After all, he wasn’t the first monster she’d shared a bed with.

It took her a few minutes to fall back asleep, during which peered at the details of his skin. Pressed up close against his chest, his strange scars were easy to inspect now, but Rook struggled to understand them.

Fire? Acid? She'd seen both before, but didn't know them well enough to be able to spot the difference. Either way, it had to have hurt, and so much of him was covered in those scars.

Eventually, Rook fell back asleep, wondering vaguely what had made this man into the monster he was today.

When she awoke the second time, it was to the sound of knocking. This time, she was facing away from Jacob, and it was easier to sneak a peek at her surroundings. Night had fallen, and the room was much cooler than it had been before. She found herself bitterly grateful for Jacob's warmth. Simultaneously realizing he wasn't bothering to move and resigning herself to her fate, she snuggled closer and closed her eyes again.

Until the door opened, pouring stale fluorescent light over them and silhouetting two figures. Rook flinched but stayed lying down, peering through her lashes. She couldn't figure out who they were, but Jacob quickly cleared that up for her.

“Come for your toy, little brother?” Jacob drew away from her, placing an affection-less kiss on the top of her head before he climbed out of bed. “That’s too bad. I keep what I hunt.”

She doubted he would say something like that to Joseph. Shutting her eyes, she waited for the last voice she wanted to hear right now.

“Toys will break if you play with them that hard,” John Seed drawled, the toe of his boot tapping against the wood floor.

Rook stayed still, listening in on their conversation while piecing herself together. With the rest Jacob allowed her, she could think, but moving would still be difficult. Eyes still closed, she hoped that he would leave her here while John distracted him. Either she could escape or get more rest -- both options were fine by her.

But why was John here? In person of all things? When he mentioned his car, Jacob seemed to readily accept the excuse. It even sounded like this was a recurring problem.

The timing was too convenient. Rook didn't know what was going on, but she was certain both brothers had their own schemes going.

So lost in her own thoughts, Rook was surprised when Jacob walked up to her and dragged her upright. At first, she cringed, not ready for John to see what Jacob had done to her. But he was looking pointedly away, and she wasn't sure if she was relieved or not. She still couldn't even understand why she cared what he would think.

Standing was difficult, especially with the wounds on her right thigh. The slashes had split open when Jacob had been fucking her, smearing blood down to her knee and up to her hip, but had coagulated and sealed sometime while she slept. The new scabs stung and itched as she put weight on her right leg, but stayed shut.

Putting on a cult sweater that was far too big for her, followed by sweatpants that weren't much better, Rook was still glad to have clothes again. Her aching body felt a little less vulnerable with the ample cover, and the warmth slowly building inside her clothes was a blessing to her exhausted limbs.

As she followed the men out of the room, she kept her head hanging and her gaze locked to the floor. She didn't dare glance at Staci, afraid he would break her resolve. Instead, she tried to focus on herself.

All in all, this wasn’t the worst Rook had ever felt.

Every inch of her hurt in some way and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had anything to eat or drink, but this wasn’t the first time she’d felt like that. She remembered the days and nights blurring together, locked in the cold, dark hallway closet of a home she hated. Being beaten again for bleeding over a coat she’d used to keep herself warm.

It was almost funny to think _that_ was what prepared her for this moment. Almost.

Jacob was a rough fuck, and she had the funny walk to show for it, but he had been focused more on marking than hurting her. Sure, there were a million bites and bruises all over her skin, but nothing deep enough to cause lasting damage.

Nothing more than she could take. Rook hid her smile by yawning. At least the two Seed brothers had their backs to her, with Staci a couple feet behind them all.

She felt ridiculous pretending to be meek and subservient, but at least the acting was made easy by how fucking drained she was. Every step was misery, her fatigued muscles straining to move a body that felt like lead, her right leg stinging (probably infected). If she made it out of here, she promised her body that she would soak for at least an hour and then sleep for two days, minimum.

As they walked outside, new problems awaited her. Jacob hadn’t bothered to give her shoes, so she was barefoot in the muck around the center. The eyes of other captives followed her, each person silent in their cage, and Rook’s twisted mind inserted memories of broken women in those cages, women she knew were already dead.

She flinched when a Judge barked, eyes widening at the sight of blood and flesh clinging to its fangs. Ahead of her, she heard Jacob chuckle, but all it did was help Rook. That small, awful sound grounded her amongst a sea of triggers. Keeping her head down, she grit her teeth.

In those terrible memories, she hadn’t been able to fight back, either too injured or too weak, but she was stronger now. Yeah, she was terrified, but there was a chance she could make it out of here, and that chance was up to her. She had to be smart, wait for the right moment.

Rook didn’t wish for luck. She never had it in the first place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor bb.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starting to get dark and dirty, so TW for non-con. 
> 
> If there's one canon thing I stick to, it's that John has no boundaries.

The deputy was silent as she walked with them, looking as demure as any other recent conquest of Jacob’s. Stuffed in a ragged sweater, most of her was hidden, but every so often John caught himself staring at the ones on her throat. 

He itched to care for that tender skin, nurse it back to its natural beauty before sinking his teeth in for his own mark. He needed to start with a canvas free of his brother’s clumsy attempts, just as he wanted to keep the deputy in her prime. The mixture of emotions was distracting, to the say the least, but he managed to keep himself talking. 

To John's advantage, Jacob more aloof and disinterested than normal, perhaps due to his fatigue. His eyes were glassy with sleep, his shoulders a little less rigid. The most unsettling thing was the small smile Jacob continued to wear. From what John understood, his brother had been personally busy with the deputy over the last two days. How John envied the luxury of even an hour with Rook.

But not like this. 

Her new quiet nature upset him,  _ enraged  _ even. Each scrape of her dragging feet grated against his ears, and added to his anxiety. Though he wasn’t able to watch her gait, he could hear the off-beat of her steps that gave away her slight limp. 

If she were already broken, then she wouldn’t be able to act out her part in his new plan. If she were already broken, she wouldn’t play with him anymore...

John had nudged the situation along, slowly guiding Jacob deeper and deeper under his car and further out of sight. Meanwhile, he shifted his presence closer to Rook, one careful step at a time. He was put off by her lack of response, but continued anyway, until he was between her and a parked truck. If Jacob had been in a better state, he might have been more diligent. But he was tired and satisfied and ready to make a mistake.

When Jacob could only be seen from the thigh down and Staci had turned away, John snapped his eyes toward Rook. 

She was already looking at him. John drew a knife from his coat, held it up with a smile, and then dropped it.

The knife didn’t hit the ground.

Everything else happened in a wild blur, and all the while John had to fight not to laugh. How thrilling it was to feel her strong hands on him again, a knife pressed teasingly to his throat as she dragged him into the truck. Jacob slid in the mud when he came up from under the car, but they were already on their way.

To suit his own schemes, John went easily, playing his role as the captive. He hadn't missed feeling her shake as she tried to hold him. Those muscular arms were weak with exhaustion and dehydration (John was well-aware of Jacob’s tactics). Like Jacob, she was in rough shape, but he admired her diligence. This woman kept pushing back, kept fighting-- _ and _ she was clever enough to wait for the right opportunity, even if it meant continuing to endure suffering. 

The truck launched across the road, roaring across the dirt and gravel into the dead of night. There was no time to talk, the truck bouncing violently along and throwing John around the cabin despite his seatbelt. He braced himself with both arms pressed against the ceiling, his heels ground into the floor mat. Wind rushed through the open windows, tearing apart his neatly groomed hair and ruffling his beard. He didn't dare glance at his reflection. 

John couldn’t help but shout when she shut the headlights off and plunged off the road. The shadow-thick forest briefly swallowed them up, branches clawing on the hood as twigs snapped off in the open windows, spraying them with bark and pine needles. 

He wasn't sure if it had been seconds or hours when they finally burst out into an open field. The moon was weak tonight, struggling behind thick clouds and heavy fog, but Rook seemed to know where she was going. John had only noticed the farmhouse seconds before the truck came to a screeching halt.

The deputy didn’t pause to take a breath, though John had a hand over his heart while he grinned from ear to ear. She tumbled out of the car, one leg giving out on her and sending her crashing to her knees. John was immediately at her side, but as soon as he touched her arm, she lashed out. The blade cut across his cheek, nicked the shell of his ear. John hissed in surprise, then smiled.

“Now, now, is that any way to treat your savior?”

“Get away from me!” she snapped, struggling to her feet. John chuckled when she collapsed to her knees again.

“ _ Deputy _ . When will you realize you need my help?” Crouching next to her, he ignored the knife she pointed at his face and offered his hand. He flicked his eyes over her, admiring the tears that glistened in her wild eyes. “You always have.”

“I… I don’t need anything from you. I have to… have to...” she panted deliriously, her breathing rapidly increasing. Her mouth gaped like a fish, but no air moved in and out. John laughed when her eyes rolled back and she collapsed with a heavy thud.

He paused, not wanting to dirty his jeans, but then remembered his awful hair and gave up on his appearance. He knelt down and loomed over her, tilting her face to him. 

“Don’t give up now, Deputy,” he whispered. “I'm not done with you yet.”

Her eyelids fluttered, but she said nothing. Unable to help himself with his prize so close, he let his hands roam over her, but one hand paused when he came across the damp spot on her thigh. Even in the darkness, he recognized blood. 

_ Ah _ .

Relief flooded him. She wasn’t broken yet, only bled out. John whistled a tune as he scooped her up into his arms, grunting a little as he made his way to his feet. Even with the weight she’d lost since their first entanglement, Rook was not a petite woman. Still, John found himself impressed. It must have taken her everything to get up from bed, let alone make a daring escape with a bleeding leg.

Helicopter blades whipped in the distance, lights peeking through the hanging fog. Still holding the passed out deputy against his chest, he peered into the darkness and discovered another vehicle parked in the dirt driveway. His eyes shifted between the car and the house. 

He looked down at her again, but she was still limp against his chest. The way she slept so soundly tempted him to start playtime a little early. All he needed to do was slide those obnoxiously large sweatpants off, dip between her legs, and taste the heaven he’d been dreaming about.

John sighed, disappointed as reality set in. Days would have to pass before the Deputy would be ready for another round of what he  _ truly _ wanted. There was little fun in dragging around a ragdoll, especially not when he knew what those hands could do to him when she had her health. His erection twitched at the thought of her powerful thighs squeezing his head.

“What to do with you, hm?” he mused aloud, kissing her forehead. Rook’s brow wrinkled into a frown and her fingers twitched, but she stayed asleep.

John headed for the car--a simple, dreadful grey sedan. Much like the other idiots in this county, the owners had left the windows rolled down and there were spare keys to be found tucked into the sun visor. John draped Rook across the back seat, but she was tall enough to have half her legs still hanging out. 

Movement had tugged the bulky sweater up and her sweat pants down, leaving a tempting patch of skin bare. While he was still annoyed by the evidence of his brother’s time with her, John’s mouth watered at the sight of her muscular stomach and the dark trail of her pubic hair. 

One taste, he promised himself.

It took only a weak tug to get her sweatpants down to where he needed them to be, bunched around her knees. Ignoring the gravel bits biting into his kneecaps, he nudged her legs apart and knelt between them. There were trails of sex along her thighs and bits of Jacob’s cum clinging to her moist lips, which gave him pause.

John smiled as he realized what had to happen, what wonderful gift _he_ could give. It would mean waiting a little longer, delaying his own pleasure, but it would be worth it.

He tugged her sweatpants back up and folded her long legs into the back seat. Again, he paused to look at her, and another idea flared. Still grinning to himself, he unhitched his belt and slid it off. Crawling in over the Deputy, his body pressed to hers, he sighed happily. Gathering her wrists up, he draped his belt around them, pulling them tight together. Once he was done looping the belt, and sure that it would hold, he kissed her temple.

“Soon,” he promised.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let the water wash away your sins~

Rook woke up when the door slammed, shaking the whole car, jarring her teeth together.

As her eyes snapped open to stare at the back of the front seats, her ears pricked with the sound of boots scraping against rough dirt outside, but the footsteps were slowly fading away. There was a soft moonlight glow to the thick fog, giving away the nearby trees, so she could guess that John had parked them somewhere in the woods. 

It had to be him. 

Only John Seed would leave her alive and bound in the back of a car… in Hope County, at least.

Not to mention she immediately recognized the obnoxious Eden’s Gate buckle on the belt around her wrist as his. Seeing it again sent a tingle down her spine, a warm and pleasant sensation that was quickly ruined by the reality that she was way too roughed up for sex. Shifting her thighs, wincing at the sore wetness between her legs, and all over the rest of her.

Closing her eyes again, she went through the routine of checking her body, and didn’t like anything she found. Everything was a wreck, from her sliced up bare soles to her aching muscles, but most of all, her cramped, bound hands. Without full access to her fists, she immediately felt weak, crippled.

And if the fuckfest with Jacob hadn’t been rough enough, her recent escape had taken what little energy she’d regained from her nap alongside the wolf. The pain in her right leg had dulled somewhat, the wounds scabbed over again; while she could probably last a decent sprint, she wouldn’t be running marathons anytime soon. To top it all off, she felt  _ disgusting _ , covered in blood, sex, and mud. She couldn’t remember when she last had a shower.

So while her mind screamed at her to move, to get up and  _ run _ before she got into any worse shit, her body refused to budge an inch. Eyes still closed and breath strangely even, all she could do was lie there and wonder about her fate. 

She didn’t believe for a second that John Seed was rescuing her out of the goodness of his heart. This wasn’t a rescue at all, just an unexpected transfer between crazy cult leaders. John had obviously helped her get out of Jacob’s grasp, but only to get her into his own. Rook knew it when the knife appeared in his hand, but she was too desperate to let the opportunity slip away from Jacob.

The real question was  _ why _ ? That was a lot of effort for one person, when he had so many other victims readily available. And he certainly wasn’t turning her in to Joseph, either. 

What was this sick fuck planning to do to her? Fuck, she should have killed John when she had the chance. 

It would have been so easy, just like all the others.

Rook’s her heart twisted painfully in her chest, too many emotions happening at once for her to process anything beyond the primal basics. Fear for herself and others made her heart race and slam against her ribs, her breathing suddenly rapid again. Sorrow over her condition and her fragmented memories of her broken colleagues had her skin prickling and nausea rolling in her stomach. Pity flickered through her mind, tied to the image of blue eyes and bloodied hands, a broken smile. 

Most prominent of all was the rage that burned in her gut at the thought of all John had done to others. Her mind fixed on the image of Hudson, bound and gagged in John’s dungeon. She hadn’t done what she had and then traveled hundreds of miles, always looking over her shoulder, to see this shit happening all over again. 

But, in her despair, Rook could only believe that this was because of her, that violence and destruction would always be a part of her miserable life. A warm tear trailed across her temple and disappeared into her matted hair. Not for the first time, she hated herself for being selfish enough to keep living. 

Why did she--

The sound footsteps returned, and her survival mind instantly erased all other thoughts. The footsteps were growing steadily louder, hard heels on dirt and grit…. alongside John’s humming. Rook’s weary mind recognized the tune as one of the cult songs she’d heard on the radio, but she couldn’t quite place it yet. She struggled to keep her eyelids still as she waited, trying not to shiver with anticipation.

The door above her head jerked open and the interior light popped on, shining through her trembling eyelids. Rook stayed as still as she could, but she already doubted he was buying it. She knew his humming ended with a chuckle.

Pain burst in her cheek when he backhanded her, jarring her eyes open and sending an unintelligible curse flying from her lips. Rook barely had time to piece together her vision when he curled his fingers in her hair and yanked her head back, forcing her to look up at him. The car’s interior light illuminated his pearl-white smile.

“That’s what you get for pretending. You know better.” He let go of her hair when she glared at him, resting his arms on the roof of the car. “Ah, but it is so good to see you’re  _ finally _ awake, Deputy. I was so worried.”

“...why?” she croaked, voice rough in her parched throat.

“We’ll get to that later. But for now,” he paused, reaching down with one hand to brush oily strands of hair from her eyes. “We need to take care of  _ you _ .”

Somehow, that didn’t make her feel better at all.

“...kill me,” she rasped.

“One day, perhaps,” he replied playfully, tapping the tip of her nose. “But not yet. I went through a great deal of trouble to get you back. Be assured that I will not be wasting our time together by ending it too quickly.”

Rook yelped when he grabbed a fistful of her hair in one hand and a bunch of her sweater in the other. Grinning from ear to ear, he pulled harder on both until he was dragging her out of the car. Gracelessly, she dropped to the ground, unable to catch herself with her hands tied. And then it was by those tied hands, by his own fucking belt around her wrists, that John continued to drag her along the ground.

She didn’t fight his pulling, busy conserving what little strength she had left, but she did make sure to keep herself as limp and heavy as possible to make the journey difficult for him. He had to keep a slow pace as he towed her across the rocks and dirt, giving her time to observe her surroundings. She ignored his humming, glancing frantically around for anything of use, but it was far too dark to make out anything beyond the light of the car’s headlamps. 

Her blood turned to ice when she saw the river, the placid surface shimmering in the weak moonlight. Rook’s bloodied bare heels scraped against the rocky shore, her eyes widening and her body tensing at the thought of taking an icy plunge. The cuts on her thigh split open again as she tried to scramble away, but she was far too weak and John too strong.

“I see you’ve managed to put two and two together,” John chuckled as she began to flail, his grip tightening painfully around her wrists.  “You will feel much better in a moment.” 

Rook flinched when the cold water first hit her. She was immediately soaked, her body still limply dragging along the ground, while the water slowly climbed up John’s legs. Every muscle tensed in a vain effort to keep her warm, straining under her skin as her breathing began to rapidly increase. She curled her hands into fists and ground her teeth, trying to steel herself against the cold, but she was shivering within seconds. 

When the water level had reached her shoulders and his thighs, John stopped. Smooth and solid river stones collided with her legs as she struggled to find her balance, kneeling before him. 

“In the end, you will thank me,” he promised. Smiling, he grabbed her hair and shoved her head underwater.

Pain rose and fell in waves as Rook fought the burning instinct to breathe. Panicking, she opened her eyes into Bliss-filed water. In her current state, she was far too weak to overpower him and fear had her heart slamming against her ribs. Her mind was screaming, and it was only by a thread that she held onto the distant knowledge that he didn’t want to kill her, repeating it over and over in desperate mantra. Twinkling lights drifted across the otherwise pitch black expanse of her vision, dancing with bubbles formed from the last bit of air in her lungs.

Then she was being yanked up by the hair. Rook sputtered, coughing up water and struggling to get air. Bliss from the water blurred her vision, faint stars drifting in the darkness, the weak moonlight suddenly blooming. Blinking rapidly, water dripping from her lashes, Rook’s eyes focused until she was caught by ethereal blue eyes. 

God, she’d never forget them.

Glittering with droplets of water in the moonlight, his face full of boyish glee, she almost found John Seed handsome. She begrudgingly approved of the strands of loose hair that dangled across his forehead, tickling his eyelashes. Since she was kneeling, there was no way to miss the erection pressing against those tight jeans. Part of her was flattered that she inspired such a reaction in him when the water was so cold, until she remembered he was fucking crazy.

But then, so was she.

John tilted his head inquisitively, flicking his eyes up and down. Giving her hair a tug, he pulled her head back further to get a better look at her face and neck. His eyes drifted over the ruined bridge of her nose, the result of more broken noses than she could count. Rook was proud of each mark and scar, and the way John’s eyes lit up at the sight of them both excited and worried her. A small crease appeared between his eyebrows and Rook’s stomach clenched in anticipation.

“One more time.”

That was all the warning he gave her before shoving her down again, both hands pressed to the back of her head. All she could do was close her eyes and let her body go limp, trying to conserve oxygen instead of wasting it fighting. The water was freezing yet strangely refreshing, numbing her aching muscles as dirt and blood was washed away. 

She realized that John was combing through her hair with one hand, which might have been comforting in any other situation. With both hands, he swept her hair away from her face, then cupped her cheeks and lifted her head out of the water with strange gentleness. Keeping her kneeling before him, he began to tenderly stroke her cheek, tucking stray hairs behind her ear and sweeping them back from her forehead. 

“There we are,” he purred when her face was clear. “Isn’t that better?”

She found it difficult to focus on his face, but his voice hummed sweetly in her ears. With the drug drifting through her, she could feel his low, intimate tone vibrate in her own chest, cutting through her cold shivers.

“I believe we were in the middle of something before you so rudely left.” 

“Not gonna fuck you,” Rook spat, fortunately sounding more confident than she felt. Inwardly, she told herself that it was the cold that made her shiver so violently. 

“In this condition, you would bore me,” John agreed, flicking his eyes over her face. He tilted her head to get a better look at her neck, clicking his tongue against his teeth. “What a sorry state my brother has left you in. But there are so many other ways for us to enjoy ourselves.”

She only sighed, more out of weariness than resignation. 

“While you were busy playing with Jacob, I found out something  _ very _ interesting. It took a little time, a little prodding, but in the end, it was worth it. These sorts of things usually are.” John paused, smiling at her with too many teeth. He held her chin and waited for her to look at him, which Rook took her sweet time doing. 

“Would you like to know what I found out?”

“No,” she answered flatly, as if that would stop him.

“There is no Rook Smith.” 

John watched her carefully enough to see her flinch; his smile widened and he quickly pounced on her discomfort. “I thought it was a stupid name, but living in the country, I’ve heard worse. However, it seems that no one with your description, or  _ anyone _ with hundreds of miles of here, has that idiotic name. And yet there are the new employee files, signed by you and the ever-galant Sheriff Whitehorse.”

_ Fucking Nancy _ .

“So tell me,  _ Deputy _ , just who are you?”

Rook held his gaze, but stayed silent. 

“You went through quite a bit of trouble to hide. I found it particularly interesting that the documents include a set of fingerprints that bring up someone else in the system, someone who is most decidedly not you.” John’s smile widened. “Tell me, how did you get the Sheriff to help you?”

Rook shivered, her muscles growing weaker in their numbness, but again, she stayed silent. A second later, as she predicted, he dunked her head down, and Rook went limp once more. She drank deeply this time, successfully betting on him being too impatient to keep her down there for long. Within seconds, he lifted her out of the water by her jaw again, though with considerably more force this time.

“We don’t have to do this. You know that.” John shook his head, almost looking regretful… if it weren’t for the arrogant smirk or the biting pressure of his hands on her jaw.

Rook managed to roll her eyes.

“I am being perfectly serious. I would never lie to you.”

Rook spat out the water she'd been holding in her cheeks, splashing right between his eyes. He blinked, but didn't flinch or move away; and, because he was John  _ fucking _ Seed, he smiled as water and spit dribbled down his face.

“And just what was that for?” he asked too sweetly, tongue darting out to lick up whatever dripped into his moustache. His fingers slid down to her throat and squeezed, albeit lightly. 

“You already know,” Rook growled, water dripping from her clenched teeth.

John's eyes glittered. “Tell me, what do I know?”

“My fucking  _ name _ ! You know my fucking name already!”

“ _ Say it _ , Deputy. Say your name.” John leaned forward and licked the last of the water from her chin, humming as his tongue slid along her jawline. Rook closed her eyes as his warm breath washed over her neck, trying not to lean into the enticing heat that came off his body, only inches away.

“Confess,” he whispered in her ear before nipping her earlobe. Rook hissed at the pinch of pain, deliciously hot and sharp in contrast to the rest of her cold and numb body. Her trembling lips parted, her breath hitched in her throat.

A heavy whirring sound had her eyes snapping open. Before she could pinpoint the source, John was yanking her to her feet by her bound wrists, his other arm cradling her against his chest. It took a few seconds for the Bliss sparkles to clear enough for Rook to notice the blurred beams of light skimming the nearby treeline. 

_ Helicopters _ , she dazedly realized, shivering with the added thought that they could only belong to the cult. 

But John didn’t look relieved. Instead, he seemed irritated. 

“Well, we were working with borrowed time,” he murmured, turning back to her. “It seems we are about to part ways again.”

Rook could only blink stupidly.

Tightening his arm around her back and cupping the back of her neck, John pressed forward and kissed her deeply. With so little energy and willpower left, Rook submitted easily to the kiss, her chilled lips parting easily to let in the searing heat of his tongue. His hands clung to her desperately, short nails biting into the side of her neck as the hand on her back wrung droplets from her soaked sweater. Rook sunk into the heat of him, her body aching for more more  _ more-- _

And then he dragged her away, leaving her panting and further confused. Rook stared at him, her mouth hanging open, and tried to comprehend his twisted expression--she couldn’t tell if he was amused, enraged, or about ready to fuck her senseless. 

Behind him, the helicopter lights were rapidly coming closer, the breeze from their blades already stirring the air around them. 

“Three days,” he told her hoarsely. “In three days, you will be at the Yes sign.”

Rook frowned deeply, still struggling to understand. As ripples fluttered across the water, strands of John’s hair were tugged loose, tickling his forehead before dancing in the wind. He took both of his hands and placed them on her shoulders, the water droplets on his arms glinting in the growing light from the approaching helicopters. Rook flinched when he leaned in and kissed her again, a groan escaping her lips when he only teased her lips with his tongue before retreating.

“Three days, or Hudson dies in a very,  _ very _ painful fashion.” He glanced down at her bound hands, smiled, then he looked up at her again. “See you soon,  _ Jane _ .”

And with that, he shoved her away, thrusting her deeper into the river to be swept up into the tumultuous current. The last thing Rook remembered seeing was John lifting his arms to welcome the white beam of helicopter floodlights, and then it all went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shitsticks, this was a doozy to write. I must have written over 10k words for this chapter in all my damn revisions. 
> 
> TBH, I'm too afraid to count and find out how much of my life I dedicate to writing fanfiction.
> 
> To anyone sticking around for smut, sorry, I don't know when it's going to happen. Just trying to let it flow naturally. Ish.


End file.
